


My Prince

by Anonymous



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman and Robin (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: BDSM, Bestiality, Established Relationship, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-10 08:07:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5577847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Damian has been asking for something, and Tim has finally agreed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Prince

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! First story ^_^ I wanted to do something never done before in the fandom so yay success. Hopefully.  
> Spelling and things are iffy, I'll be honest, I have severe dyslexia and spell check only picks up to much. 
> 
> Um. Pay attention to the tags.  
> Also  
> Damian is 18 in this, Tim is 21.  
> So, don't worry.

 

Tim shivered, naked and blindfolded on a strange bed. He knew that his lover was there, somewhere; when they’d talked about… doing this, Tim had hardlined the fact that he wouldn’t be left alone, but his Prince wasn’t touching him. When they were like this, Tim wasn’t supposed to use his detective skills, the Prince had said so, so he wasn’t trying to strain his ears for the slightest of noise, not sniffing the air to see if something had changed. He was just supposed to stay on the bed, flexing in the position his Prince had gently forced him into, on his chest and knees, and let himself be admired. He whined and fisted his hands into the pillow his head was propped on, wiggling because he could feel the heat from the lights on his skin and he didn’t want it, he didn’t like being admired, being seen. It was easier when it was dark and he could touch his Prince. The compromise was the blindfold; Tim felt safer in the dark. He tried to control his breathing, slow it down, but he knew eyes were on him and he was flushing brighter all the while.

 

He wasn’t hard, their scene had just started, but he could get that way quickly, even like this. A word from his Prince, a touch, something, anything. He wanted to beg for it, his Prince would give in to him, always did... but it was too soon. There were… other things they were going to do. His Prince had asked, when he never asks for anything, and Tim loves him, loves him so much, but he had said no, very hard and very loud and very often. His Prince had understood, and only brought it up when they were negotiating, never pushed, never told him he was disappointed. Even in his rational mind outside of subspace, Tim would never want to disappoint his Prince. A sad, desperate whine forced its way out of his throat just at the thought. A warm, solid hand on his back silenced him, stroking down his spine, soft hush from his Prince’s perfect lips and Tim settles in his skin; he hasn't disappointed.

 

“You’re thinking too much, beloved.” His Prince says, his voice full and rich and wonderful, “I can see the smoke rising from your ears.” He traced one of the shells with a finger, “Where did you go, in there? Who am I, too you right now?”

 

“My Prince” Tim purred, an easy answer, just saying it settled his mind, like water calming after the storm. The hand on his back flexed, still petting him slowly, down his spine. A rumble in his Prince’s chest, a good, proud sound that made Tim rub his cheek against the pillow under him, wiggling a little further down into the bed.

 

“Good boy,” his Prince says, hands on his ass now, squeezing and pulling, making Tim shiver. “Always my good boy, saying yes to this, so good for me, beloved. Say your words for me?” Tim can hear the click of a cap opening and tilts his ass up higher, purring as he wiggles on the pillows he’s been propped up on.

 

“Skywalker is good. S-starkiller is wait. Revan is stop,” Tim breathed out, words tinged with impatience and excitement. His Prince chuckles, amused and beautiful and Tim is in love. Even more so at the first slick, sweet touch of a finger on his entrance, just a tease but Tim still moans, soft and eager, relaxes his body as his Prince enters him slowly. It’s still a tease, Tim can take more, they’ve been training his body to take more, and he whines because of it, clenches with a hunger around the one finger.

 

The slap lands hard on his thigh and Tim sobs, opens himself and drops his head in shame. His Prince croons at him in a pretty language as he strokes the spot he struck. Tim whines in apology, but doesn't move, doesn't say anything, doesn't know if he should. His Prince doesn't seem too disappointed, going back to working his finger in and out of Tim's body, loose and open for him now, and Tim bites the pillow to keep his greedy noises of need to himself. If his Prince believes they should take it slow, he believes so too. But that doesn't stop the happy little noise that work their way out of his throat when his lovely, amazing Prince works a second finger in. Slowly at first before he’s fucking into Tim’s pliant body with his digits, spreading them open then curling them against his walls, touching and teasing, working him open as Tim starts to squirm, cock hard and leaking onto the pillow under his hips, but rutting into the soft, smooth material was more torture than staying still.

 

Slick with more lube than Tim thinks he needs, his Prince adds a third finger, slow and careful, he opens his submissive to him. Stretching him as he pressed in as deep as Tim's body will allow them, massaging him from the inside out, rubbing and curling and making the older man mewl needily as his Prince starts to tease over the spot inside that could make him cum with just this alone. It feels so good, a liquid, burning ecstasy filling his body, lighting up his blood. Tim moans into the pillows, bites and chews them instead of his lips like a good boy, drools and arches into the fullness, shaking and so worked up he missed when three became four. It wasn't until his Prince started thrusting them into him, brutal and hard, teasing with the brush of more, just a little too much pressure that Tim realized it, clenching down eagerly and relishing the feel of being fucked open by half of his Prince’s hand. His Prince was brutal with his efforts, and Tim screamed and sobbed, arching to try and meet the thrusts of his hand. Let himself be open to taking this, surviving it as he fought down his orgasm, so close he could choke on it.

 

“Beloved,” his prince whispered like a sin, dripping the word from perfectly sculpted lips into Tim's ears and down his spine, fingers thrusting in hard and directed with each syllable. “Let me see you come for me.” And he did, sobbing in release as he stopped fighting and let go, knowing that his Prince was watching, that he wanted this, wanted to see Tim's scarred and flawed body as it shook with orgasm. This Prince worked him through it, the fingers inside his body rubbing into his prostate to milk his orgasm long and thorough, leaving Tim shaking and sticky. He pulled them from Tim's body slowly. Testing over the slick and well-stretched rim, rubbing the excess lube over his intimate muscles as his clean hand stroked Tim's sweaty back gently. “Words, beloved?”

 

“Skywalker,” Tim muttered automatically, rubbing his face into the soft pillow before slowly rolling his hips, rubbing his softening cock into the mess he just made with a small whine, clenching his empty hole to show his Prince he was okay, that he was light and beautiful and ready for what his Prince truly wanted from him. He could feel how proud his Prince was, how loved he was, with the slight tremor of his lover’s fingers as they stroked his back once more.

 

Tim lost time. For a moment, when those fingers left his body and he felt suddenly too alone in his skin. But before he could react, the bed dipped in front of him and and his head was settled onto warm and beautiful thighs. Tim immediately started mouthing at them, imagining the beautiful skin under his lips and tongue. Trying to determine the difference between scar and flesh, working his way up to where his Prince’s cock was, heavy with need between his legs. Tim nuzzles into his lover’s groin, moaning as he pressed his nose to the base of his Prince’s cock and inhaled the un-adulterated musk. He licked at his Prince’s velvety length lovingly, up the hot, salty flesh with a pleasant purr, “Oh my Prince.”

 

The younger man groaned and ran his fingers gently through Tim's sweat-matted hair, muttering fervently in a language Tim couldn't comprehend right now as he licked and sucked at his Prince’s cock, mewling at the taste of it, the feel of it against his lips, over his tongue. He trembled under the privilege of having his Prince in his mouth, hands sliding over strong calves to squeeze into dangerous thighs as Tim bobbed his head, whimpering as the thickness, the heat, alive over his tongue, the hand on his head get harder when he flicked his tongue over the leaking slit.

 

Tim was enraptured, hyper focused on his Prince’s cock and the way it made love to his mouth, that he missed the door opening and closing, missed the way his Prince tensed up suddenly, shivered with more than pleasure. Missed the tip-top of claws on the ground. What he didn't miss, couldn't miss, was the long, velvet hot tongue licking over his open and stretched hole. He pulled off of his Prince with a soft cry. Turning his head to try and see through the blindfold, clinging tighter to the younger man's thighs as the owner of the tongue ate at tim furiously. The tongue was thick and hot. Sliding into Tim's pliant and ready entrance easily, spearing in and out, dragging over the rim relentlessly. Tim whined, arching, caught between wanting to pull away and stay where he was. Confused pleasure rolled over his face as he pressed against his Prince’s thigh as his mewls edged towards hysterical.

 

“Speak, beloved,” his Prince ordered sharply, juxtaposing the hands in his hair and cupping his face, thumbing gently at the exposed skin of his cheek under the blindfold. “Use your words”

 

Tim nuzzles into the hand with a whine as he struggled mentally with himself. “S-starkiller,” he gasped out finally, shaking and biting at his lip. A sharp, foreign word from Damian’s mouth and the tongue stopped.

 

“What is it, Timothy?” the younger vigilante asked softly, concern in his tone, though he made no other moves to comfort or stop the scene. Starkiller was Tim's yellow, Damian had never played the games from which Drake drew the correlation, but the words aren’t for him, anyway. “What do you need?”

 

“I… words, I need to… Dami,” the dark skinned man shivered under Tim's slurred and thick words, the sound of his name from Tim's sex ruined lips was almost as good as when he called him Prince. Tim nuzzles into Damian’s hand again, trying to pull his mind from the gossamer that it became during heavy scenes. “I need… speak. Not… don't stop, please, talk to me. Let me hear you.”

 

The biological son stroked his adopted brother’s hair gently. “You want my voice, beloved? Want me to talk to you while you're like this, on display for me? Naked and open, about to be bred just because I asked this of you. Or is it because you know, in your heart, that this is where you belong, on your knees for me, your mouth red and wet from my cock as you wait for the animal behind you to take you, for my pleasure?”

 

He watched as Tim sagged against him, melting under the words like a precious metal in a furnace, it was beautiful to watch Timothy submit, to let go for once, to trust his body to someone. There is beauty in submission, there is power there, but Timothy was afraid of it, of himself in these situations, so he keeps the lights off and pretends he doesn't have Damian wrapped around his little finger.

 

“Good bitch,” Damian muttered, hoping his voice was demanding enough and not silly with his crush. “You're going to take your stud’s cock so well, aren’t you? Just for me?”

 

Timothy nodded, pressing his face against Damian’s thigh as he shifted his ass up a little higher, mewling weakly as he swayed in anticipation. “My Prince,” he breathed out, hot against the younger man's thigh, his mind sinking under the haze he let himself fall under, breathing heavy as he started to blush, biting his red lips as he nosed against Damian’s balls, licking them meekly.

 

The younger man trembled and shifted a little on the bed, spreading his legs wider as he took a calming breath, trying to ignore Tim’s tongue, “The dog is beautiful, beloved. I have never seen a Shepherd so large. He's just like you, listens to my orders, awaits my every command, is… eager, to fulfill my desires. Do you like that, knowing that you’re my good dog?” Tim whined and nodded between Damian’s legs, huffing out hot little breaths against the bigger man’s sensitive skin.

 

“He's going to fuck you, beloved. Hold you down under his weight and breed you like the bitch you are. Knot you and keep you on his cock. Are you ready?” Damian asked, combing his hands through Tim's longish hair.

 

“No,” the older man whined, weak and soft between his legs, shifting his hips slightly. “My Prince… please, no.” The blush took up most of his face, and rosy hue that complimented Timothy's pale and flawless face, rubbing his cheek against Damian’s thigh as the younger stroked his hair. Despite the fact that Damian was taller now than Timothy, it was still a little bit of a stretch to slap the submissive man’s thigh hard enough to leave a mark, make him jerk and gasp, bleeding into a whine.

 

“Silence, pet,” Damian commanded, shifting Tim back into the correct position, stroking along his spine from ass to shoulder with both hands, holding get him still and down, gently but firm, as he barked the order for the student’s dog, a slurred German sound that meant nothing to the human ear, but the beast, a magnificent Shepard in the prime of his life perked up, moving back to run its long tongue over Timothy's entrance once more, dipping inside with slick wet noises that pulled low whines from the older man. “Yes, beloved, yes, just like this. Still and open, so good, so good for me.”

 

The dog, satisfied with the tongue bath he had given his bitch, mounted Timothy's small form easily, wrapping powerful claws around his waist, safely getting caught in the pillows, keeping sharp claws away from the older man’s vulnerable stomach as it rutted against him. The animal’s thick cock rubbed between his legs and over his thigh. Leaking watery cum over Tim's skin as he struggled to sink into him, before one powerful, lucky thrust caught on Tim's hole and he sunk in.

 

Tim jerked under the beast and Damian’s hands, crying out loud as the animal never gave him a chance to adjust, just rutting into him hard and fast, a brutal, primal rhythm that has the human bitch under him making high pitched noises and scratching at the sheets. “Hot,” Tim whined against his thigh, voice a weak mess, “So hot.”

 

Damian tilts his head up gently to look at Timothy's face; his mouth was open, gasping for breath as he cried out under the onslaught of the Shepherd, he was starting to drool, flush spilling down his neck and shoulders as damian stroked his lips and tongue with his fingers. “Bark,” Damian urged suddenly, his voice tight and barely controlled, “Beloved, bark for me. Show me you can be a good dog.”

 

Tim's noises cut off sharply, whining loudly and shaking his head, trying to pull away, but Damian wouldn't let him, held him tight and growled in his face. The dog whined above them and seemed to redouble his efforts, like Damian was issuing a challenge and the Shepherd was trying to prove something. Tim keened, gasping and and clinging to Damian's thighs, scratching at him. “P-please,” he gasped weakly. Lost in the whimpers and the sick, slick sound of the dog’s cock working in and out of him.

 

“ _Bark_ , bitch. Be a good dog,” Damian demanded, voice hard now, and Tim sobbed. The fabric of the blindfold getting wet as the older man trembled and writhes, whining with every breath, still shaking his head, mewling as his cock is rubbed into the slick wet silk of the pillows under him. Damian can see the moment he gives in. Choking on a sob, Timothy shakes his head from his grasp, pressing his face back against Damian’s thigh.

 

“R-ruff,” he mutters weak, raw and broken, making pathetic barking imitations between sobs, sounding more animal by the second as the Shepherd’s thrusts got visibly harder, jarring Tim up the bed, “A-ah!..  rrrf. Oh, my…. God. Prince. He's…. Gro-oooh. Bigger!” Words were hard to form as the dog’s knot popped in and out of him, growing bigger with every thrust. Timothy sobbed, broken and open as he tried to keep his hips still, to be good.

 

“Words, beloved” Damian cut in, hard and quick. “Last chance.”

 

“Sky--” Tim tried to say, choking halfway through the word when the dog’s knot popped into him the last time, filling him, stretching him from the inside out as they were locked together. The Shepherd's movements were still rushed, sharp, aborted thrusts that made the bulge on the end of the dog’s cock tug at his rim and tim screamed desperately, hands sliding towards his hips, clawing at the sheets like he's trying not to touch himself and losing.

 

Bless his Prince; Damian dragged his hands back, holding them tightly, “Not yet, beloved. Tell me how you feel.”

 

“Full,” Tim moaned pitifully, nuzzling into the younger man’s thigh. “So big... in me, hot. He's cumming, oh god, so much. Can feel it. So much… so much,” he trailed off, licking at the sweat satin-y skin of his Prince’s thigh. Crying out as the dog shifted, turning, his cock still locked inside. Soon they were ass to ass, the dog laying down on the huge bed and dragging Tim's hips down with him. “Oh! _Oh,_ Prince. Oh. Please, I'm so… please please _please!”_

 

Damian cursed, feeling his neglected cock twitch at the broken desperation in his beloved’s voice. He was going to cum soon, even with his iron will and control of steele, and Damian doesn't want Tim to think he's done anything wrong tonight at all. So he shifts and squirms out of his pants and boxers until his cock was free, groaning as the air of the room hit his sensitive skin, purple with neglect. He stroked himself slowly, before fishing a hand into Tim’s sweat slick hair, he tugs the submissive man’s head up just this side of harsh, pressing the tip of his leaking cock against Timothy's wet and bitten lips.

 

“Put your mouth to better use,” Damian demands, let's his eyes roll as Tim doesn't hesitate to take Damian deep into his throat, moaning eagerly around the thick, sensitive flesh of his Prince. Damian guided his head slowly at first, letting the older man get used to it, but Tim was impatient, shifting, rolling his hips and trying to move faster, mewling and whimpering, tapping his “Go” code out on Damian’s thigh. Without hesitation Damian tightened his grip and fucked up into the paler man’s throat without remorse. God, Tim melted for that, keeping wildly as he opens his throat for Damian, swallowing around him. Sucking at the hard flesh and working his tongue when he can, his hips rocking between the slick silk and the huge knot inside him as tears spill down his face from the saline soaked blindfold. His little muffled noises were high and sharp and bleeding, and Damian growled and fucked his mouth harder.

 

The younger one growled, eyes like molten jade eyes flashing as he looked down at his sub, the his red lips wrapped around Damian's dark cock, ass full of cum and spread out on a dog's knot. Just for him. It was too much, all at once, and as Timothy swallowed around him, Damian pushed his head down, harder, his nose buried in the coarse hairs of his Prince’s crotch, lips down to the base as Damian flexed his hips, cock twitching deep in Tim's throat and he cums with a quiet noise, shuddering through his orgasm as Timothy sucks him dry.

 

He slides from the older man’s ruined mouth, wet with slip and cum and tears, Tim's tongue is lazy even though his hands are frantic, clawing red marks into Damian's thighs, “Prince” he slurred out, drunk on sensation, “Prince, please, so… c-close. God please!” A fierce and sharp feeling filled Damian’s chest as he tugs the older man up, kissing him hard, easily dominating his messy mouth, growling at the taste of himself as he forces Tim to his knees, swallowing the scream at the shift of the dog’s cock inside him. He keeps one hand wrapped around Tim's chest to keep him close. The younger man’s other hand reached for Tim's hard cock, slick with his previous orgasm and copious pre, stroking fast and hard.

 

Tim wailed, rocking between his Prince's hand and the thick cock, the pressure on his rim, crying harder and trying to crawl into his Princes body though his mouth, not close enough, never close enough. But he's been on the edge too long, the contact, the pleasure, too much for his overwhelmed body and mind. He wails as he cries, spilling get over Damian’s hand. But his sound turns into a gurgle as his awareness fades to darkness and he loses connection to reality, slumping into his Prince’s chest.

 

Tim comes back to himself in the dark and he's scared. He’s alone? He doesn't know, can’t… it's dark, where? “Damian!?” his voice is weak and ruined, trembling body shaking as he reaches out--

 

“Hush, my own, I am here,” Damian’s voice is thick from sleep, full of warmth. “You are home now.” The younger man shifted behind him and Tim turns as sharply as his sore body will let him, or he tries, but the younger man holds him still. “No, no, easy. Easy. You have been out for a few hours. Perhaps next time we attempt something like this, we will do it when you are more adequately rested.”

 

Tim didnt care about his words, forcing hands away. He drags his sore and protesting body closer to the bigger man’s and curls around him, whimpering as he presses his face into Damian’s chest. He felt exhausted, more than he ever had in his life, the soft purr of Damian’s chest as he spoke lulling the older man to sleep. But he was shaken abruptly, and it pulled a sharp whine from his throat as he clung tighter. “No,” he whined lowly.

 

“You have to drink something, beloved. I have some of your favorite juice. It will make you feel better. And if you stay up a little bit longer, I will make you some of your coffee.” Damian was using his coaxing voice, soft and deep. He got it from Dick and he's fully aware of the power it has over Tim's mind. The smaller man was already nodding, for all that he was clinging tighter to Dami. They had to sit up together, but that was fine. Tim was always overly clingy after scenes.

 

This one, in particular, Damian was concerned for. Tim had yet to say more than one word, and he clung like he was expecting it not to last. He kissed the older man’s cheek as he shifted him, forcing him between Damian's extended legs, Tim's back to his chest so Damian can hold the cup of the piña colada smoothie Tim secretly loved. As he drank, Damian peppered kisses over his neck and shoulders, whispering into his skin how beautiful he was, how amazing. He didn't stop until the small cup was empty.

 

“Talk to me, beloved,” the younger man urged lightly, rubbing Tim's sides with gentle hands. “I feel your emotions like a storm. I cannot help if I do not know the problem.”

 

It was as if speaking about it woke Tim up from some lingering sleep, as he curled around himself, arms knocking Damian’s hands away. “Don't,” Tim said with shaking words, “I'm not. How can you…?” he trailed off, eyes closed and send faced turned away, he rocked forward, crawling away from Damian’s, down the large bed in the blood son's room. “I fucked a _dog_ , Damian, how can you say…I'm _disgusting,_ how can you touch me?”

 

Damian… should have expected this, honestly, Tim had been reserved about it from the beginning. It broke his heart to see Tim pulling away, and as much as he wanted to leave the older man alone to his mind, like Drake was always insisting, he knew that was wrong. So instead he grabbed for Tim's ankle, fully expecting the kick Tim aimed for him, but the older man was disoriented, so it was weak and wild. Damian easily dodged, grabbing his other foot and flipping Tim onto his back. Any other time this would be a more even fight, but not now, as Damian’s larger form blanketed Tim's trembling body, holding him still as he stroked the older man’s freshly tear soaked face.

 

“Beloved,” Damian whispered, trying to catch Tim's eyes, but the man refused. Keeping them cut down and away, biting his lower lip as he still fought weakly. “You did nothing I did not ask of you, nothing I did not insist on. Nothing that would make you disgusting to me. Nothing _could_ make you disgusting to me.” He watched Tim's face, looking for anything that said he'd cracked the shell of self-doubt and loathing, but saw no hint of even a small victory.

 

“Drake,” Damian barked, switching tones from coaxing to hard, the one he used for Robin, in the field where their lives hung on paying attention. Unsurprisingly, Tim snapped to attention, muscles flexing and tightening under Damian’s grip as he met the younger man’s eyes, Sapphire into jade. “I love you. Nothing we have done in the bedroom has ever, or will ever, make me think less of you. Do you believe me?” Tim's eyes got dark in a sad way, looking away from Damian’s eyes, clenching his jaw. Damian sighed and kissed his cheek, gently lifting Tim's jaw until he met the younger man’s eyes once more. “That is fine, beloved. Do you trust me, at least?” To this, at least, Tim nodded, fighting lightly at the smile Damian gave him in return, as he let himself be wrapped back up in the larger mans warm arms. “Then trust that I believe what I say. Now, come, drink some more juice and we can sleep some mo--ow!”

 

Damian frowned down at Tim's hands, his pianist fingers. The older man had flicked his forehead, a pointed look in his still too wet eyes. “No. You said coffee.”

  
Damian glared at him, but it was useless. He was in love.

**Author's Note:**

> Please read and review ^_^


End file.
